


Show Off

by the_ragnarok



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/M, Foursome - F/F/M/M, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Pregnant Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 19:17:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1754997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/the_ragnarok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you know what we need?” Pete says, because he wants to share before Patrick remembers to get cranky. “Adult merit badges. So when someone makes their wife come three times in an hour, they can brag about it to their friends without being creepy.”</p>
<p>There's a loaded pause on the other end of the line. Then a distinctly non-Patrick voice says, “Really.”</p>
<p>"Pete,” Patrick chimes in, pained, “I was trying to tell you, you're on speaker.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show Off

**Author's Note:**

> For this prompt from the bandom prompt meme kink round :D unbeta'd, unedited, I didn't sleep enough last night so I hope this is vaguely coherent /o\
> 
> I DO NOT PRESUME TO KNOW THESE PEOPLE OR WHAT THEY DO WITH THEIR PRIVATE PARTS MMKAY.

Meagan shudders and stills. Pete raises his head, wipes his mouth, and says, “Yeah?”

"Fuck yeah.” She sounds wiped out and happy, slightly out of breath. Her thighs clench and unclench with aftershocks. 

Pete hauls himself up and kisses her. “Wanna go again?” he says when they come out for air.

She laughs. Not in a mean way, just a little exasperated. “Yeah? Are you ready to go?” She squeezes his dick, still wet from round one.

Pete spreads his legs to give her space. He's plumping in her hand a little already, his dick still wet from the first round. “Aw, baby, don't say that if you don't mean it.” 

Her hand's already going slack, though. “Maybe let me just catch my breath,” her words fading into slurred mumbles. She's asleep before she finishes the sentence.

Pete presses a fond kiss to the top of her head. Pregnancy's been great for Meagan's libido so far, but it's hell on her energy levels.

~~

If Pete had to choose one thing that he misses about sex with Patrick, it would've been the high-fives. It would admittedly have been a tough competition; while Pete would never say this out loud (because he is a gentleman, fuck you), he's never gotten head as good as Patrick gave it.

(It was the humming that did Pete in. Also that mouth, yeah, but Patrick's voice vibrating through Pete's _dick_ was enough to make him come like a stupid teenager, every time.)

But the high fives, the fist bumps. Not even the physical gestures themselves so much as the sense of mutual achievement, the same uncomplicated _Look what we made together!_ joy that they had every performance, every new song they finished. Only with orgasms.

Well, so fuck it. Pete's in his room, alone, and if Pete can be happy for Patrick when he talks about his solo performances, Patrick can damn well return the favor.

"Pete?” Patrick sounds a bit sleepy when he answers, voice crackling over the line. Pete glances at his laptop's clock, worried that he might have forgotten and called at 1AM again, is relieved to find it's only afternoon. “You're--”

"Do you know what we need?” Pete says, because he wants to share before Patrick remembers to get cranky. “Adult merit badges. So when someone makes their wife come three times in an hour, they can brag about it to their friends without being creepy.”

There's a loaded pause on the other end of the line. Then a distinctly non-Patrick voice says, “Really.”

"Pete,” Patrick chimes in, pained, “I was trying to tell you, you're on speaker.”

"Uh,” Pete says, and, “hi, Elisa.” 

"Bye, Pete,” Patrick says with pointed finality, when Elisa interjects, “No, wait, three orgasms? Tell me more.”

It's amazing. Pete can practically feel Patrick changing colors across the line. “Elisa,” Patrick says, sounding wounded.

Pete is gearing up to stand for Patrick's defense – which may be awkward, since he has no idea whether Elisa knows about Pete's, um, hands-on experience with her husband's orgasm-giving abilities – when she says, “Honey, no, you're fine. Just, what was it you told me when you did the jazz camp thing? Always seek to improve?”

Pete grins, can't help but say, “Better orgasms for a better you?”

"Fuck you,” Patrick says. There's a soft _thump_ like a head hitting a pillow. Pete has a sudden vivid image of them in bed, hiding under the covers since Patrick doesn't like to be exposed even after sex, sleeps with clothes on more often than not. 

At least he used to. Pete didn't even mind the lack of skin-to-skin contact, because Patrick's sleep clothes were worn whisper-soft and smelled like sleepy Patrick. Pete may or may not have built himself a small nest out of Patrick's shirts a couple of times, when sleep was especially hard to come by and Patrick himself wasn't around to make it better.

Patrick's still talking. “Why did you even need to tell me that,” he says, plaintive.

"Hey, fuck _you_ ,” Pete says. “I cleaned up after you that time with the cheese, okay, you don't get to pretend like we have boundaries.”

"We're married,” Patrick says. “I thought we agreed to have boundaries now.” 

There's a little hint of warning in his voice, which Pete would have paid attention to if Elisa hadn't said, “Okay, yeah, but I want to know more about the multiple orgasms thing.” 

“I don't even know if it's me.” It's a little embarrassing to admit, but Pete doesn't want to be dishonest. “She got like, crazy sensitive ever since she got pregnant. Like, physically sensitive, I don't mean crying at movies or stuff.” He ignores Patrick's attempt to hush him down with a pointed “ _Pete,_ ” going on to say, “But really it's all about varying pressure, you know? Start gentle, get more forceful when she gets into it, then go _seriously_ gentle after she comes.”

"Huh,” Elisa says. “Go on.” 

Patrick's suspiciously quiet. Pete swallows and continues. “I like to get off first so I can concentrate on her, get it out of the way, you know? So we fuck, first thing, and then I eat her out.”

Elisa's answering “Mmm,” has a distinctly breathy quality. 

“Is Patrick going down on you as we speak?” Pete says. He's really not expecting her to say, “Yeah.” 

To his stunned silence, she eventually adds, “What, like this is the first time you heard him go down on someone?” Her tone is decidedly playful. “He really is good at it.” She sounds like she expects Pete to agree, like they're both members of some Patrick-connoisseur society.

Well. They kind of are. “He really is,” Pete says in a rush. 

"His hands,” Elisa says, kind of dreamy, and Pete can't help but sigh and say, “Yeah, and his sweet little tongue.”

At some point it's gotten dark, which Pete hasn't noticed until the light comes on. He jumps in his chair and turns around to see Meagan at the door, looking sleep-rumpled and delicious."Are you having phone sex with Patrick?” Meagan asks. Miraculously, she doesn't look pissed. She looks... intrigued? 

Damn. Sometimes, it's like someone up there _really likes_ Pete. 

At the end of the day, Pete's never been a dishonest person. “And Elisa,” he says, holding up the phone. He can hear Elisa moaning, tinny through the receiver. 

Meagan slinks closer and rubs her hand over Pete's dick. “Tell them to get their asses over here,” she says, matter of fact. “I want to get fucked, you're not wasting your erection on fucking phone sex.”

Pete would argue that phone sex isn't a _waste_ of anything, but he knows what she means, and definitely knows better than to deny the pregnant lady his dick if she wants it. “You heard the lady,” he says.

Elisa says, “Yes, yes,” but Pete really isn't sure she's talking to him. He waits on the line until her breathing goes ragged and evens out again. Then there's a beep and Patrick's voice comes through, clearer; he must have turned off the speaker. “We'll be on our way,” he says, and hangs up.

Pete grins up at Meagan, gestures at her to come over. 

"I'm too heavy for this,” she says, even as she folds down in his lap. 

He kisses her shoulder. “You are not.” He'd never say, but he kind of likes the softness of pregnancy on her, her solidity against him. It's soothing. “Any weight you are is the perfect weight to be, because it's yours.”

She swats at his shoulder and giggles, like she doesn't know he's perfectly sincere.

~~

Even if Patrick has his own house, any place Pete lives in is at least provisionally Patrick's as well. That is to say, Patrick has a key. Which is damned useful, since it means Pete and Meagan don't have to break off making out to let Patrick and Elisa in.

Pete does pause, though, to appreciate the picture he and Meagan make. She's sprawled across their sofa, shirt hiked up to show her pretty breasts, a little fuller than they were before the pregnancy, though her stomach is only just starting to round. Pete is slowly but surely sliding down to his knees, nuzzling at Meagan's lower belly towards her damp panties.

He takes them off with his teeth, and Meagan gives a breathy little laugh. “Show off,” she says.

Pete can feel eyes hot on him. He may preen a little. "Hey, if you got it, flaunt it.” 

"So you keep saying,” Patrick says behind him, and Pete shivers. It's been a while since he heard this particular tone from Patrick.

"Oh, hey,” Meagan says. “If I want to get fucked again after the first time, would anyone mind if I get on Patrick's dick?”

Pete turns around at the quiet in the room. Patrick's gone red in blotches, the outline of his erection obvious through his tight jeans. Elisa looks thoughtful. “I suppose,” she says archly, a smile blooming on her face. “It is for a good cause.”

Meagan doesn't wait for Pete's answer. She doesn't have to; she knows him well enough. “In that case,” she says, spreading her legs, “I want round one now.”

Stage fright was never among Pete's many, many problems. Even so, he finds himself hesitating until a warm hand touches his shoulder. “Hey,” Patrick says, solid and familiar behind him. “We don't have to.”

Pete closes his eyes. “Oh, no,” he says, “you're not getting out of the orgy that easily.” Then he puts on his very best shit eating grin and takes off this pants.

The smile becomes real, though, as he sinks into Meagan. Her eyes flutter shut and her thighs press against his sides. He kisses the tip of her nose and lets himself feel her, the familiar heat, wet and welcoming from messing around earlier.

"You can let go whenever you want,” she whispers in his ears, but she arches against him tellingly and Pete never met an audience he didn't want to please.

"And if I want to take my time?” he says, trying to tone down the smug when she shudders and clings to him, grinding her clit against his pubic bone in little circular motions. 

She gasps, “As long as our guests aren't bored.”

Pete sniggers and looks behind his shoulders. “Don't mind us,” Elisa says. She looks a little flushed, and it that – yep, her hand is in Patrick's pants. Patrick doesn't even reply verbally, just _looks_ at Pete, hot and focused.

So he paces himself, measures out the thrusts of his hips, rolling and leisurely, careful to keep the angle Meagan loves. She gestures him away from her nipples when he reaches for her breasts, but arches up when he licks her neck.

"You're like a fucking vampire,” Patrick says. His voice feels like a tangible texture to Pete, soft-rough, and Pete would rub himself against it like a cat if he could.

_Does_ rub up, when he feels familiar calloused hands close over his hips, the scrape of denim against his naked ass. Pete looks down, watching his wife lost in bliss, and does not look behind where his best friend is groping him.

Distantly, he hears a slick, rhythmic noise. Sounds like Elisa's having a good time. “Don't distract him,” she says. “Let the man work. I still haven't seen a single orgasm today, I might ask for a refund.”

Pete laughs. “Can't have that.” He brings his fingers down to touch Meagan where she's open around him, slicks his fingers the wetness surrounding her cunt and brings them up to circle her clit. Just like he told them, it's a matter of rhythm, of pressure. Not so light now, turned on as Meagan is, but slow. He speeds up, both his thrusts inside her and his fingers against her, pounding her deep and perfect until her fingernails score welts down his back.

Meagan's mostly quiet when she comes, her orgasm showing in how she quivers and then goes slack. Then there's her smile; sleepy, satisfied, but a little hungry still. Pete lets himself really move then, sloppy, messy, shaking apart while Meagan's arms hold him together.

He gives himself a moment to breathe before slipping out and going to his knees. He's still mostly hard, and he hears Elisa sucks in a breath. “I was kidding, you know,” she says gently. “You can take a minute to enjoy the afterglow.”

Pete turns to look at her. She's naked, matter-of-fact about it, with her pants off and her hand moving lazily inside her own panties. Patrick is still just behind Pete, so close that Pete can feel the warmth of his skin. 

“Nah,” Pete says. “Afterglow's for wusses. Got to keep you entertained.” He turns the other way, nipping at the skin above Patrick's knee, surprising a laugh out of Patrick.

"You're such a little shit,” Patrick says, fond.

Pete bats his eyelashes at him. “I'm your favorite little shit and you know it.”

Instead of answering, Patrick digs his fingers into Pete's hair, twisting and pulling gently. He knows Pete way too well. 

He moves Pete around like that, positioning him so his mouth is touching Meagan's pussy. Like a reminder, or an order. Pete laughs under his breath and gets to work.

Pete loves how Meagan tastes in general, but like this, there's something both obscene and perfect about it. He laps around her clit, just cautious little touches of his tongue, careful not to overstimulate. She tastes like the two of them, like satisfaction, like a job well done.

When her thighs start twitching he knows it's time to give her more, seals his mouth around her and sucks. Still gentle, still soft, just giving her the very basics to work with.

"Fuck, look at him,” he hears Elisa say, hushed. 

Patrick answers, “I know.” He's farther away now. Pete misses the heat of him, comforts himself by bringing Meagan's hands down, tangling them in his hair. 

She's ruthless with it. Pete loves that. Loves her, so much he could burst.

Bringing her off like this takes no work at all. She loves an audience, just like he does, getting herself into a performance space. He feels her tense and move against him, clenching around the finger he slips inside her. 

When she comes again, he takes the finger out and sucks it clean, not even thinking how it would look until he hears Patrick draw in a sharp breath.

Patrick – when Pete turns around to look – is on his knees, too, hunched next to Elisa, eyes fixed on Pete. Patrick's fingers strum over Elisa's pussy in the mindless way he plays with a guitar when there's one in his hands, the same way he drums little beats on his thighs when he's trying to concentrate. Working out music without even realizing he's doing it; the cadence of Elisa's breath sounds melodic enough to Pete, for sure. 

Meagan's fingers rest lightly on Pete's shoulder. He turns back, nuzzles her thigh and says, “Yeah, babe?” 

Her mouth settles into an unconscious, adorable pout. She spreads her legs a little, probably doesn't even realizes she's doing it. Pete's not surprised when the next thing she says is, “I wanna get fucked again.” Her voice is low, almost raspy, a little petulant in a way that makes Pete want to kiss her nose.

Maybe later, once he's washed his face. For now he says, “Hey, Trick, that's your cue.”

~~

Watching Patrick fuck Meagan is kind of torturous. In the way where it's painfully hot, and also in the way it makes Pete's heart clench in his chest a little bit.

As in everything else, Patrick's got rhythm when he's fucking. Pete knew this already, but every time he noticed it before he'd been, uh, occupied. Now there's nothing to do but admire his movements, the way he's looking down at Meagan and biting his lip, trying to hold on.

Meagan's nowhere near this careful. She doesn't scratch Patrick the way she does Pete but she holds on tight, probably leaving bruises. Pete has vivid images of that, mouthing little black and blue fingerprints that his wife left on Patrick's pale hips. 

He shakes it off. He and Patrick aren't like that anymore.

Since he's got his eyes on Patrick and Meagan, he figures that the warmth next to him is Elisa. He makes himself tear his gaze away to confirm it.

Elisa bumps his shoulder. “Cheer up, emo kid.” Patrick actually slows down to throw a wounded look in her direction. She grins at him unrepentantly. “Go help them out, don't just sit here and sulk like you dropped your ice cream.”

"I wasn't,” Pete says for the principle of the thing, even as he scoots closer.

There's this ferocious, possessive part of Pete that's glad that he got to Meagan first, that he got to _Patrick_ first, chronologically if not tonight. Because now that he's close enough to feel the heat radiating off their bodies, close enough to _smell_ them, smell himself still on Meagan and now clinging to Patrick--

Yeah.

He actually feels a little guilty about Elisa, worrying that she feels left out, but she's calling at him to “Get on with it, Wentz.” Pete does not need to be told a third time.

It's easiest to stay on his knees, rub his cheek against Meagan's lower belly and kiss his way down. Patrick makes it even easier then, holding her parted for him, and Pete might pause to lick at Patrick's fingers.

Then he's back to Meagan's clit, hard and familiar against his tongue, Patrick's dick hard and familiar against his cheek. Pete closes his eyes and doesn't let himself think about anything except their scent, Meagan's hand capturing his, the soft sounds Patrick makes.

Pete's getting hard again, soon enough after last time that it's almost painful for him, but he doesn't care in the least. He sneaks one hand down to touch himself, rough, with none of the patience he saves up for Meagan.

Then Patrick stops. Meagan and Pete makes a synchronized protesting sound, then look at one another and crack up. 

Pete can practically hear Patrick rolling his eyes. “Pete. Be nice to yourself or I'm going home.”

"Whatever, like you really would,” Pete says, but Meagan's giving him a stern look. Pete smiles at her sheepishly. He makes a show of licking his hand before wrapping it around his dick again, this time going slow. 

He can't help but flex his abs a bit, though, can't help but preen under the combined heat of their gazes.

Patrick gets going again, and this time Pete doesn't pull his punches, puts his mouth right where Patrick's cock is sliding out of Meagan's pussy, licking at the edge, rubbing his upper lip against her clit. He's trying to work his tongue in her alongside Patrick's cock when Meagan whimpers and clenches and abruptly pushes both of them off her.

"Sorry, too sensitive, can't,” she says, words rushing out of her mouth.

Which leaves Pete face to face with Patrick's hard, wet, red dick. He licks his lips without even thinking about it, and Patrick grunts, gripping the base of his cock. “Don't,” Patrick says, warning. “I'll come all over your face.”

"So? I've never minded before.” Pete only considers the words after they've left his mouth. Sexual frustration is bad for his filters, which are shitty as-is.

Patrick doesn't seem panicky or angry, though. Nor does Elisa look surprised, when Pete spares her a glance. Pete's relief is profound, but he doesn't have a lot of time for that right now. He hasn't blown Patrick in ages.

Taking dick is harder than Pete remembers, taxing on his jaw muscles in a way that eating pussy isn't. It's worth it, though, for the greedy little thrusts of Patrick's hips, his careless hands in Pete's hair, on the back of his neck. The rest of the world may think Patrick's a little angel, and sometimes he is, but he's also a rude little shit.

Pete kind of loves him best like that.

He needs his hands to keep Patrick from actually choking him, so he gives off the pretense of dignity and rubs his erection against Patrick's shin, hungry for any contact he can manage. Patrick's skin, the near-invisible blond hairs on his leg are rough against Pete, almost painful, the exact kind of friction he wants.

"Fuck, Pete,” Patrick says, a low growl that Pete adores. “Your mouth,” and promptly proceeds to fill said mouth up with come.

Pete stays still, a little stunned in a way he shouldn't be – yeah, jizz comes out of dicks, that should not be a revelation at his time of life – and still achingly hard.

He looks up, and Patrick's smiling at him, eyelids lowered. Tender. “Come here,” Patrick says, but doesn't wait for Pete to move before kneeling so he's facing Pete. He takes Pete's face in his hands and kisses him, sweet and long and perfect, pressing himself forward so Pete can rub himself off against Patrick's soft stomach.

~~

For a while, Pete floats, eyes closed against Patrick's shoulder.

Then Elisa's hands tangle in his hair, forcing him up on buckling legs. “I wish I'd brought my harness,” Elisa whispers in his ears. “I bet you'd take it very, very well.”

Pete couldn't get hard again, it's physically impossible, but he trembles all over just thinking about it. 

Just before he loses balance, Patrick comes up behind him, closing his arms around Pete. “Play nice,” Patrick tells Elisa, lightly. 

"You break him, you buy him,” Meagan calls, still a little groggy. 

Elisa smiles at him, and it's sweet in a way Pete didn't expect to ever see aimed at him. She puts her arm around his waist and walks him to Meagan. “Back to your rightful owner,” she says, smirking. Pete is starting to wonder about her.

But then he collapses, lets his head rest in Meagan's lap, and for once in his life he's the first person in the entire room to fall asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [theragnarokd](http://theragnarokd.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and I have a bandom problem. Come say hi!


End file.
